1983 Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows
by mdc1957
Summary: Nearly 30 years have passed since the world nearly ended. But even as life goes on, dangers still loom from the shadows. Dangers that threaten Austria and everyone he holds dear. Meanwhile, a writer finds himself caught in the middle of it all. Part of the Doomsday-verse. Rated M for violence and later horror scenes. AusHun and OCs. Completed and corrected.
1. CH - 1

**Author's Notes: **For a little change in pace, here's a "RE:" ("revised") fic for the Doomsday-verse AU, _The Vanishing Shadows_, which was originally posted in DeviantArt around Halloween 2012. Like in the earlier version, this one moves the clock to the AU's version of 2012. And just as in that, expect some suspense, fear and possibly outright horror...only this time around with more than a few polished and altered twists. Admittedly, this was partly done to make up for some of the missed opportunities, typos and off writing that may have been in the earlier fic. Maybe you could blame the critic in me. But for those who've heard of this just now, then hopefully this fic is polished and set for your tastes!

Just to be sure, this is a work of fiction. No ill or harm is intended at the slight. And as a precaution, I neither own Hetalia nor 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.

At any rate, enjoy!

*UPDATE: Also apologies for the last minute typo fixes!

* * *

**____****Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows**

_**A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.**_

**_CH - 1_**

Linz-Hörsching Airport, Alpine Confederation. 2012.

It had been a particularly long and tiring flight. As Jean Burnel stepped out of the renovated airport, he felt glad to be back on solid ground. While he admitted that air travel might have gotten better since commercial planes once more took to the skies, the experience still felt unnerving. Especially being so far from the warm shores of his Pacific home. Looking around, he noticed a few signs for the upcoming _Seleenwoche_, with a couple of fake pumpkins put in for good measure amidst the freshly renovated façade. _At least that's over with_, the writer thought, taking in the fresh if peculiar Alpine air for a few moments. _On to business then. _Making sure that his luggage was safe, he wearily moved towards the parking lot.

Save for a handful of security guards and Prussian tour groups, he thanks his lucky stars that the place was less crowded than he imagined it to be. And to his continued relief, not one of them seemed to recognize him as the author of _The Shadow of Tomorrow_. While he was by no means a mere upstart, it still surprised him long after the interviews and press events how that that piece of work had already become a bestseller across the RTFA, ANZ Commonwealth and who knew where else. _Guess I ought to thank those Anzacs for translating it into English. _Already, his book was being compared with H.P. Lovecraft of all people in those newfangled REM boards: a harrowing if action-packed tale of a lost secret from Doomsday hidden in Paris and the soldiers who discover its horrific truth.

_Merde, sometimes I surprise myself._ The man smirked despite the exhaustion as he kept on looking. True, some criticized him for making such a distorted take on France's legacy, especially since he himself was a citizen of a French successor state. _If only people really knew what I based it on…_

It wasn't long however before Jean noticed an unassuming black Mercedes Benz parked at the far end of the lot. Standing in front of it was a greying steel-eyed man in a second-hand suit, a faded Red Star clipped to its collar. He looked like someone who had seen combat once upon a time. Another figure walked up beside him, slightly younger and with a hint of tan but no less intimidating as he murmured something in an English that sounded vaguely American. Come to think of it, the two seemed to match what Jean's benefactors described his contacts in the invitation, even if the letter didn't mention their names. _Then again, they arranged my plane ticket. Better not keep them waiting. _Giving himself an exhausted shrug, he walked towards the pair.

"_Bonjour!_" the author greeted as he walked up to shake the weathered man's hand. Quickly collecting himself, he slid into accented English. "So you must be the ones sent to meet me. Apologies, I'm Jean Burnel, _Monsieur_…"

"Col. Viktor Andrei, _formerly_ of Soviet Ground Forces," he replied crisply though with a plainly Russian accent before nodding at his associate. "And this is Mark. Very handy with – _security _needs. He'll help you with the bag." The man's voice came across as more than a tad intimidating for Jean's liking, especially as he was gesturing towards the car. "Hope you don't mind rushed welcome. Alpine authorities have been most difficult but you'd be glad to know our – _employers _have found suitable target away from them. But for now we should get moving to more private location."

As the author stepped into the back seat, his luggage and the American in tow, a tinge of apprehension began bubbling up. For some reason, a thought crossed his mind that it may have been a mistake coming here. Come to think of it, he mused as he practically collapsed on the seat, it did seemed suspicious how mysterious his benefactors were. For all their wealth and connections, as much as they were helpful in making his name a success, he always did wonder whether there was a catch to it all. _Just what do they plan for me?_

Jean brushed the notion aside. After all, if not for them, he wouldn't have learned much on the existence of Nations. Sure, he had to edit out some of the details, especially the more explicit references to the late "Francis Bonnefoy" for his titular creature. _Using France seemed such a good idea at the time._ But the realization that such beings were among them in plain sight made for much more than good writing material. And if that letter was telling the truth, then he would soon have a chance of a lifetime: an opportunity to meet with one of "those people." He could imagine all the revelations that would bring. This went far beyond simply making a sequel to his book. _This…Mon Dieu, this could very well change the world. _The thought managed to perk him up despite the exhaustion. Jet lag be damned.

Noticing the airport vanishing from view through the tinted windows, he turned back to the Russian, a hint of excitement on his face despite his weariness. "_Bon,_" he finally spoke up. "It wouldn't be too rude to ask where we're headed, _non_?"

Jean noticed a forced and none too comfortable grin lining the old man's face. "In due time, _moyemu drugu_, all will be revealed." The creeping uncertainty had returned, as much as the writer tried to brush it off. But it was what the man said next that made him really wonder whether somehow, he would regret taking that flight.

"You would find it most appropriate for your novel. Indeed, _we _are most pleased…"

Somewhere in the Sopron Frontier.

"We're all set to leave, _Meine Fraulein_," Julia heard Lt. Franz Steiner call out as she finished up the last of her picnic meal.

"Got it, Franz!" she replied gingerly. While the young Austrian aide wasn't in uniform, the Survivor-Nation wanted to make him feel as relaxed as possible. _It's the least I could do, _the Survivor-Nation thought warmly on seeing the Alpine man actually trying to enjoy himself. After wiping her mouth with an old embroidered handkerchief, she eagerly made her way up the empty road to an old military jeep. There were markets to go and surprises to be planned after all.

_Seleenwoche_ or _Mindenszentek napja_, however her people chose to call it, the embodiment of Sopron wanted to do her part in making this year's All Saints' Day memorable for everyone. But as much as she respected her customs, she also wanted to make it a little more cheerful for a change. _Maybe like those Halloween parties those Americans used to have_.

She was no stranger to the chaos in the Wastes, however. Far too many had since passed away since the bombs fell, the cemeteries around her land already filling up with tombstones. Still, she believed the dead wouldn't want their loved ones to grow depressed. _Even for a short while. Hopefully Mama and Mr. Auztria like it! Though if only…_

Julia found herself sighing as she entered the car, catching Franz's attention. "It's just a shame _Herr _Edelstein isn't here with us," she answered the young man's unvoiced question.

"I can assure you," the Alpine aide replied while trying to start up the old engine. "That my – superior's trying his best. Perhaps he can find the time soon."

"_Danke_ anyway," the girl shrugged. She already knew that it couldn't be helped. Her aristocratic caretaker was most likely to at the Confederate Council in Vaduz for another one of those sessions. And while the Alpine siblings meant well, the fact that they couldn't really recognize her very publicly or let the Survivor-Nation into those meetings was something that troubled her at times. Despite that, she smiled knowing that he and her mother were still with her. _All in good time, right? Maybe when I get older._

But just as they were ready to get going, another car suddenly stopped in front of them, several people with weapons coming out towards them. Franz was able to step out and draw his gun before someone came up from behind and stabbed him. Julia got past her shock long enough to see the knife land oddly on the young officer's arm, though not without managing to fire off a few shots before falling unconscious. She then found herself being dragged off the jeep by another intruder. Whoever these men were, they clearly weren't from her people despite trying to dress up like them.

_Nice try though._ She smirked defiantly as the Survivor-Nation elbowed her captor with more strength than a girl supposedly her age should have, knocking him out. Noticing another trying to lunge at her, she managed with a little difficulty to lift the attacker up and toss him aside. _Don't think you can catch me s-_

Sopron suddenly felt a sharp jolt of pain, her body collapsing to the ground as men began surrounding her. The girl managed to pull out a dart that had just struck her neck before they began binding her in all sorts of restraints. She was barely able to make a startled person in the distance speaking in a language that sounded French. She shouldn't give in. She _mustn't._ Yet her senses were failing, an unwelcome and eerily familiar blackness once again threatening to consume her. _Trapped….Nem…I can't…not again…_

"W-What's happening?!" she managed to blurt out even as her own voice gave in. The last thing she saw was an old man in a suit, chuckling coldly in a Russian accent.

"The start of a new world, you fool. _Ours._"

And then there was nothing.

* * *

As for some reference:

The Alpine Confederation is a partnership, alliance and federation between Austria, Switzerland and Liechtenstein, with the latter two being the more predominant (the central capital is in Vaduz), which emerged in the AU's version of 1997.

Sopron, is the Magyar city and region bordering Austria, which is also affectionately known as _A Leghűségesebb Város_ ("The Most Loyal Town"). Owing to its location at the crossroads of the two countries (it's also known as _Ödenburg_), it is in many ways genuinely Austro-Hungarian, with the area practically half-German and half-Magyar. In the Doomsday-verse, it's developed to the point of having its own Survivor-Nation, although she's not exactly recognized outside of Austria or Prussia...

In _1983: Doomsday_, Jean Burnel is a fiction writer responsible for the horror-thriller _The Shadow of Tomorrow _in that timeline's version of 2010. He's also been described in-verse as "H.P. Lovecraft's successor" and is mentioned as working on a sequel set in the "Hungarian Wastes." In the Doomsday-verse AU however, it's shown that his novel and "research" go _much_ deeper.

The RTFA is short for the "Republic of the French Southern Territories," a French Survivor-Nation based around Tahiti and the former _Outremer _territories in the Pacific Ocean that has plans of one day uniting all the other French-speaking survivors into a reunified France.

The ANZ Commonwealth, also known as the ANZC or simply the Commonwealth is a union between Australia and New Zealand that was formally established around 1995. Not only did both countries endure Doomsday mostly intact (although Sydney, Melbourne and Perth were destroyed by the bombs), but they would emerge as one of the post-Doomsday world's major powers, their reach extending across the Pacific to as far Hawaii.

REM is short for REMUNDO, the Doomsday-verse version of the Internet. By 2012, it's spread to the more stable and civilized parts of the world, although not everyone has access to it just yet. Not to mention that computers are mentioned as being 1980s-early 1990s standards.

As an additional note, Halloween as known in the US or Britain isn't universally celebrated the same way. This is especially true in Central Europe where countries like Austria and Hungary have different traditions largely based around All Saints'/All Souls' Day.

...and yes, Francis Bonnefoy is the human name of France in _Hetalia._

_Seleenwoche_ - "All Souls Day/Week" (Austrian German)  
_Mindenszentek napja_ - "All Souls Day" (Hungarian)  
_Les Australiens_ - "The Australians" (French)  
_Bon_ - "Well/Right then..." (French)  
_Mon Dieu_ - "My God" (French)  
_Moyemu drugu_ - "My Friend" (Russian)  
_Nem_ - "No" (Hungarian)  
_Auztria_ - Austria (Hungarian)


	2. CH - 2

**____****Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows**

_**A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.**_

**_CH - 2_**

Somewhere in the Sopron Frontier. 2012.

_Where could she be?_ Roderich Edelstein kept asking himself as he looked over the aging map laid out in front of him. Several dark red marks were scribbled all across the borders and towns marking the Frontier. All of them were false leads. _How could…Mein Gott, this can't possibly be happening!_

That those kidnappers managed to elude both the police and garrisons did not put the Nation at ease. The fact that they were able to slip in through what should be one of the most tightly secured borders in Europe alone was a potential crisis for the Alpine Confederation as a whole, let alone his own people. And no matter how hard the Nation of Austria tried, he simply couldn't sense Sopron anywhere. Neither in his land or in the other Alpine territories. Hearing brisk footsteps coming up from behind him however, he turned to find an aide still wincing in pain from the attack. _No time to show weakness._

"Report Franz," he ordered in a stoic yet carefully measured voice, his face betraying nothing. "We are running out of time."

"A-Apart from the growing unrest, nothing else Sir," the Lt. Steiner replied wearily. Roderich could see the grimy bandages covering the young officer's arm, blood stains still fresh. "A-According to intelligence, the perpetrators were headed east into the Wastes. Given the timeframe, they most likely wouldn't have gotten too far. Perhaps just enough from the villages and patrols into bandit-infested territory, but whether or not they'd see us coming – that's an open question." He seemed to pause for a moment before trying and failing to breath calmly. "I-I'm deeply sorry for f-failing my mission, _Herr _Edelstein. But if you would like my resignation, then it i-"

"You needn't worry," Austria cut in, allowing himself a faint if assuring nod to his aide before forcing back his mask. Admittedly, it seemed more than a stroke of luck that the man even survived that strike at all when it should have been fatal. _Either way, you would make your ancestors proud._ "But we must get to action now. Mobilize the Expeditionary Corps..._Nein_, call in _every _available garrison. Julia must be found at al-"

"HOLD THAT ORDER!" The aristocrat turned to find his fellow Alpine groaning in frustration over a hastily installed radio as the Swiss embodiment stood up and faced him. "_Verdammt _Roderich! You _know_ that we can't just send the Alpine Militia out into the Wastes for an operation like this. You might as well tell the damn world about Sopron and _all_ of us!" It was clear even through the anger that Vash would rather be back in Vaduz with his dear sister rather than put up with what might very well be a fruitless search. The more Switzerland went on however, the more he seemed to sound somber than bitter. "Just don't think Lilli or I _enjoy_ any of this _Scheiße_! We want her back just as much as you do. But with the situation as is, our bosses wouldn't even risk having an international incident on their hands."

Austria bit hard on his lower lip, straining to keep his emotions under control. "_Herr_ Zwingli, I am her – _guardian_. I won't let neutrality be an excuse to do nothing while those fools pose a threat to all of us. I..."

It took so much effort just to keep from saying "father." That all this was happening around _Seleenwoche_ only made the growing anxiety even worse. A thought then crossed his mind that he wouldn't make it in time to save his little Julia. That those accursed Wastes would claim another casualty. _Just like her mother…Nein, not again. I won't allow it! I…_

"...I made a promise to keep her safe," he muttered almost silently as his hands brought out an old Luger pistol from its holster. As much as the Nation tried not to indulge in fighting, he still couldn't help but admire if reluctantly the old world elegance of the weapon. A relic from the days of his, or rather _their_ Empire, it had seen him through two world wars and even the bitter bloodshed that followed Doomsday. And just as with his old saber, he would not hesitate to use it again. "I don't intend to break it. Not now, not _ever_."

For a brief moment, however he thought he heard words through the strong wind outside as a peculiar bird flew past. _We can still save our child, Szerelmem,_the familiar voice whispered, scorned yet still assuring. _You are not alone._

"_Bitte_," Austria finally insisted, his eyes staring down at the Alpine Nation. "We can do this. We _have_ to."

"Roderich," Switzerland started, a slightly bewildered look on his face before clearing his throat. The Swiss blond then glanced at the Austrian's aide. "On _Herr_ Edelstein's behalf you are authorized to deploy the Expeditionary Corps. If anyone else asks, say only that it's only a routine patrol. This is _strictly _off-record."

_Jawohl, Herr _Zwingli."

As Franz saluted and left, the Nation noticed Vash turning back to him. "If it helps, I'll also lend a hand on this…but this is _not _as a favor, you cheapskate!"

Against his better judgment, Austria smirked wryly. "_Danke schon, Schweiz_. Your help is most appreciated." _Just as is yours, Meine Liebe._

As the other Alpine was about to think of a retort, however, the radio went haywire in a mass of static. The same familiar voice suddenly seemed to overcome the noise before the set finally gave in. It was in Hungarian.

"That – That didn't just fucking happen right?" Switzerland gasped haltingly.

"It's...best to leave such matters be," the Nation replied curtly. Despite the calm tone, even he felt a tad unnerved as he quietly translated Elizaveta's words: _We have to crush them. CRUSH ALL OF THEM NOW!_

Undisclosed location.

"Y-You think that you'll get away with this?! I've seen bullies who have more dignity than you!"

Even in the decaying, crumbling corridors, Jean could already hear the captured girl defiantly shouting and struggling against her bindings. As he moved closer to the cell, the writer took a moment to look around his "host's" dilapidated excuse of a hideout, wrapping his jacket closer to keep out the chill. Here and there were the burnt remains of furniture, carpet and even photographs. But the faded posters, makeshift netting and boxes of weapons spoke of the darker purpose it now served. _Must have been a nice house once,_ he mused. _Anything_ to keep his mind preoccupied. _This isn't what they told me in that blasted letter._

The men Col. Andrei and Mark had wandering about were little better. Apart from a few heavily-armed guards, most were little more than hired guns taken from the local warbands that still plagued the Hungarian Wastes: rough Serbian defectors, old Soviets still in their tattered uniforms and lowlifes just eager for some action. Some of them either had few bullets or none at all, instead using swords, spears and bows made out of what remained from the ruins. _Or whatever else is left by now. The sooner I'm through with these… _His thoughts came crashing when he finally reached the door, only cross paths with his "contacts."

"One day, we find out how to rid ourselves of these _things_," the French author heard the Russian murmur grimly to his American comrade before finally noticing him, sliding once more into a forced, unnerving grin. "We've had a most _pleasant_ conversation with our new guest. But you wish to conduct your 'research' now, _da_?" There was something nerve wracking about the greying man's smirk and the stains on their clothes. "Well then, don't take long, _gospodin_ Burnel. Our benefactors have big…plans for _it_."

_So they say…_ Curtly nodding as they passed him, Jean walked inside. He closed the door to find a filthy, dilapidated room lit only by a lone light bulb close to a barred window. A mix of dread and discomfort seemed to fill him as he stared at the captive bound up at the other end of the cell. _Non, not it. Her._ A young, barely adolescent girl in a torn-up country dress, grime, sweat and tears covering her skin. She seemed to have hardly slept at all from the marks around her eyes. Yet she stared at him with such intensity that it was at once defiant yet tender. And despite it all, there still remained a warm trace of a grin on her face. _Julia Edelstein-Héderváry_, the author grimly recalled the child's human name. _Otherwise known as the Sopron Frontier Territory._

In another time, he would have found meeting one of these "Nations" to be a chance of a lifetime. If the writer were even more frank, he could already see hints of the knowledge and insight in the girl's eyes. Her people's history, culture, aspirations, fears…all taken form in plain sight before him. And all within his very reach.

_But not like this…not like this…_ He found it harder to even move forward, his hand still grasping tightly at the door knob as though reluctant to get on with it. _This isn't what I want! _Until finally he sighed, taking one more glance at her.

"_Je suis désolé, Mademoiselle,_" he solemnly murmured, forcing himself not to look away. To his shock however, Sopron gave a warm smile, her face seemingly glowing for a brief moment.

"_Ismerem,_" she replied warmly in Hungarian before sliding into German. "You're not one of them, _ja_?"

For a second, Jean Burnel found himself caught off-guard by the fact that she actually understood him. But somehow, it was right there and then that he realized what he had to do.

"_Oui,_" he finally answered, wearily returning a smirk. It was the least he could do at that point. "I'll try to do what I can, Julia. Just hang in there. Help _will _come."

"I hope so. And don't worry." Sopron tried to smile once more, despite coming across forced and pained. "They won't break me."

He knew that it meant great risk and possibly having his so-called benefactors out for his blood. _Heh...They'd be after me anyway._ Perhaps it really was a mistake taking that flight from the Pacific. _But merde if I don't try to give those bastards hell._

Just before he turned away however, the writer thought he saw a strange bird by the window for a moment. It seemed to have green piercing eyes and a flower on its head. But maybe that was just his imagination.

* * *

As for some reference:

The Alpine Militia is the formal name of the Alpine Confederation's army. It's described as powerful, especially with all the tanks and weapons America, France and (West) Germany left behind. But due to the whole neutrality policy, they aren't used that often unless it's absolutely necessary.

It's also mentioned that in _1983: Doomsday_, the Soviets attempted to invade Austria during Doomsday itself, starting with the nuclear destruction of Vienna. The result was a brutal conflict resulting in the Austrians and soon the Swiss fighting off the Soviets. Unfortunately, the survivors of the failed invasion joined up with those stranded in what came to be known as the Hungarian Wastes...

Hungary in _1983: Doomsday _and the Doomsday-verse AU was largely reduced to ruins due to nuclear attacks and the Soviets soldiers-turned-warbands ravaging what remained. Outside of Sopron and Debrecen/Partium, the "Hungarian Wastes" are plagued by warlords and bandits either descended from those former soldiers or Serbian defectors trying their luck in the wasteland.

_Seleenwoche_ - "All Souls Day/Week" (Austrian German)  
_Meine Liebe_ - "My love" (German)  
_Gospodin_ - "Mister" (Russian)  
_Je suis désolé_ - "I'm sorry." (French)  
_Ismerem_ - "I know" (Hungarian)  
_Szerelmem_- "My love." (Hungarian)

*Some of the German and French terms are swear words. Take a guess what those mean.


	3. CH - 3

**____****Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows**

_**A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.**_

**_CH - 3_**

Undisclosed Location. 2012.

A large crumbling house came into view amidst the ruins. By most measures, it seemed to blend into the dreary, nearly lifeless landscape. If not for the rows of barbed wire and crude barricades that surrounded it, however. All made from whatever could be salvaged.

Taking cover from behind a pile of rusting cars, Austria wondered briefly what this place must have been like before Doomsday, only to brush it aside. _After all,_ he thought quietly. _If it had a name, those damned bandits erased it long ago. _The Nation's attention soon went back to the sound of sentries close by. He noted with some bitter satisfaction that those guards had not noticed what he had done to their comrades further away. And glancing at Lt. Steiner and the Alpine Expeditionary Corps as they braced themselves in all their combat gear, the Nation needed no reminder of the dangers in what they were about to do. _Just stay the course…_

"This better work, Roderich," the aristocrat heard Switzerland sneer as he moved up alongside him. He could already see the Alpine loading up his rifle. "The enemy will try to gun us down the moment we go prone. And since we're too close to pull back, our best option is to keep moving forward. That is, if that fucking pile of rubble really _is _where they're keeping Julia."

"It has to be," he shot back, briskly clearing the dust off his old dress uniform. From the light tones down to the archaic cuffs and even that seam Elizaveta helped patch so long ago, there was a whiff of nostalgia in the garments. _How long has it been since I've worn these? Austrelitz, perhaps? Or was it the Great War?_ The Nation shrugged the memories aside. He never did enjoy fighting, let alone find pleasure in it like a certain Prussian albino. If there was any honor in battle, it usually came from coming out of it with one's head held high. But whether then or now, neither would he hesitate to kill if there was any need to. _Even if it's for our dear child._

"But surprising as this may seem," Roderich continued. "There's no other explanation. Whoever is leaving those trails is leading us here. We have little else beyond this. It has to be more than mere coincidence!" _Maybe too much so. _Perhaps there was someone among those kidnappers who truly had a change of heart. But if centuries of experience had taught anything, it could just as well be a trap.

From what little he managed to gather on such short notice, the intruders and their mysterious backers were more than mere bandits. One name in particular stood out: Col. Viktor Andrei. Former Soviet turned petty warlord, wanted for a number of offenses before fading out of Alpine Confederation's hitlist some years ago after eluding capture. Before then, he was one of the officers who led the failed invasion into his land during Doomsday. It seemed strange that this excuse of a man would risk his ire. _Why now? How could that lowlife know about…Mein Gott…They know about us!_

The realization shook the Nation as much as he kept focused on the looming battle. He could only imagine what their real plan for Sopron was. Fears crossed his mind on what they may be doing to her at that very moment. That she may be a pawn in some wider plot, perhaps an experiment for them to toss about at their pleasure, or worse. _Nein…not her. I can't let those fools! I WON'T LET THEM! I…_

The Nation's attention snapped back just in time to notice a guard close to his cover falling to the ground, the others caught up in growing commotion. There was an eerie gust of wind in the air that sounded much more like a shriek than anything natural. And for a second, he noticed a familiar yet unnerving bird flying off towards the house, though not before somehow taking out one of the others with its, or rather _her_ claws. He smirked despite himself. _She always did like getting ahead into battle._

"_Herr _Edelstein?" He glanced back towards his aide, the rest of the Corps not far behind. "O-Our men are set and ready to go. We're awaiting your orders, Sir."

Austria could see the fear and anxiety in their eyes. He _sensed _them almost as though they were his own. Yet he also noticed the same resolve and determination in them as their predecessors had generations ago. Even with the risks they were taking then and now, their stern nods were more than enough assurance. Then again, these able soldiers were the same ones responsible to him over what became of Hungary. The same ones he entrusted to keep his identity and very person safe.

_And I have no intention of letting any one of you die on my watch._ Roderich nonetheless allowed himself a faint, approving smile. Whether or not they really answered to him alone now didn't matter. _That you volunteered at all…you've already made me proud to be your Nation… _The sound of Switzerland's rifle going off snapped him back however.

"If you plan on making our move, do it now!" Vash sneered impatiently over the noise as he pinned down another bandit. "I'll give you covering fire, but it's now or never, you aristocrat! DO IT!"

_Now or never… _"Well then."

Standing up with little ceremony, the Nation turned back towards the direction of the ruined house. Unsheathing an old officer's saber from its buckle as well as the Luger pistol from its holster, he felt for a moment as though he was about to relive one of the many battles from his Empire's past. Only this time, this wasn't just for him, the Confederation or even his beloved Elizaveta. In a smooth, long-practiced motion, he raised the sword towards the waiting foes, gun also in hand. He knew it was an obsolete and perhaps frivolous gesture. But while it seemed too fitting to open his rescue with even some _proper_ formality, his focus remained firm. _Just please hold on, Julia._

Time seemed to slow down as he paused for breath, aiming his firearm at the closest enemy. Then, as he pulled the trigger, the Nation glanced back briefly to his men, mustering as much of his old wartime façade as he could remember. It was pointless going back now. The last battle of the Soviet Invasion had begun.

"Men of Austria!" He finally shouted in a tone and sternness he hadn't used in generations. _Perhaps for the last time. _"Victory awaits you! _Vorwärts zum Ruhm!_"

-0-

Jean Burnel was helpless. Gripping the pen and notebook on his hands tightly, he forced himself to watch his so-called contacts hold another of their "talks" with Julia. That he was taken here to witness this at all must be some perverse joke. _It has to be,_ the writer thought bitterly. This one was different however, as Col. Andrei's voice turned ever more sour with each passing minute. _And much more heated, too._

"We can spend all day like this but patient, I am not!" the Russian spat out, all pretenses of friendliness gone. The aging man's hand was clearly tempted to just stab another one of those peculiar darts into the girl's body. "Don't think you can't understand me, you pathetic _thing_! The sooner my employers rid this whole planet of your kind, the better! NOW DO WHAT WE TELL YOU!"

Sopron cringed in pain yet still refused to give in. "My people... have faced worse things than this! Mama, Mr. _Auztria_, everyone – They didn't raise me to be beaten. Just you wait and see, _old man_!" There was something defiant in how she drew those last words out mockingly, even managing to let out a weary chuckle. And yet the author couldn't help but imagine the pain she must be going through.

The old captor growled as he grazed Sopron's neck with the dart's needle. Jean wondered just what was in that infernal thing. After all, it just left a faint scratch on her skin but it was enough to weaken someone like her. His attention went back to the Russian as he visibly threatened to stab it outright into her neck.

"Don't you feel it, you abomination?!" Col. Andrei continued. "Your people are in an uproar, but they never did care about you, didn't they? The Alpine Confederation won't risk sending men to expose you without revealing themselves! And even if they were to do that, the world will _never _accept you or your kind! Face it! You've been abandoned! NO ONE WILL COME TO S-"

"We have company, Colonel!" Mark gasped for breath out as he entered the cell. Come to think of it, it was the first time Jean actually heard the old American mercenary speak loudly at all. "The Alpines have our men on the ropes. We have to get the package out before they find it!"

With the door wide open, the author could hear more clearly the sounds of grenades, gunfire and even clashing blades coming from outside. While it was hard to tell which side was winning out there, the noise seemed to grow louder with every second. Still, he couldn't help but feel as though there's a chance. _Just hope the rescue party gets here soon. This has to work!_ The faint but relieved grin on Julia's face served to calm his nerves down a little, only to find the Russian now glaring at him with a cold sneer on his face. _Merde._

"…and I have good idea who showed them the way here," he muttered in thickly accented English before taking out an old yet well-maintained service pistol. "Mark, take this..._thing_ to the shed. Leave behind all the unnecessary clutter. Just – let me take care of this stupid _Frantsuz_…"

"Now, Jean!" The writer managed to turn just enough to see Sopron straining to slip out of the bindings and push Col. Andrei off balance. Breaking free, she then managed to tackle the Russian down on the ground.

"_Kérem_…" the Survivor-Nation muttered faintly as she struggled. "Can't hold out for much longer…you have to find them…" Even dulled and crippled, her persistence still didn't ceased to amaze him. But coming back to his senses, Jean tossed the pen and notebook at the distracted American just as he was about to shoot her and dashed out into the corridor.

His mind continued to race as he frantically kept running towards where he thought those Alpines would likely be. But the closer he got to what had to be their voices, as well as what sounded like a shrieking bird, the more he came across bullet holes, scorch marks, and the bodies of bandits either too wounded or bloodied get up. While it wasn't by any means the first time he had seen, let alone written about the sight of battle, being right there first-hand still caused his stomach to churn. _Just keep moving. _As he turned around a corner, however the writer saw what appeared to be a soldier in Alpine uniform, an arm covered in stained bandages.

"_Herr_ Edelstein," he heard the young man promptly call out to someone else out from view. "_Wir haben jemand hier_!"

_That name…where have I…_ Before long, Jean found himself looking at a group of soldiers in Alpine uniform. But what caught his attention were the two figures leading them. One had blond hair, piercing eyes and dressed similarly with the other men if not for the old white beret on his head. The other seemed to be a bespectacled young officer whose clothes and composure seemed straight out of a period film. What caught the author's attention however was how he reminded him of Sopron. _Even his eyes, unless…Mon Dieu. That's can't be! _Forcing himself to keep calm, he wearily raised his hands up.

"Don't shoot, _s'il vous plaît_!" he pleaded as he slid into English. "I know where Julia is, _Monsieur _Edelstein!"

"Do you, now?" he replied cautiously in fluent French. There was a hint of bewilderment in the Nation's otherwise stoic face even as he ordered the other Alpines to lower their weapons. "It is frankly surprising to find someone of your stature here. But if we may skip the pleasantries, _why _are you doing this?"

"So I can make up for a _horrible_ mistake."

* * *

As for some reference:

The Alpine Expeditionary Corps is a part of the Alpine Militia that's assigned to explore, investigate and secure the "Hungarian Wastes." But while they're observed by the UN-inspired WRCB and the authorities in Vaduz, in the Doomsday-verse they serve a more secretive purpose involving Austria, Sopron and Hungary herself.

It's also mentioned that in _1983: Doomsday_, the Soviets attempted to invade Austria during Doomsday itself, starting with the nuclear destruction of Vienna. The result was a brutal conflict resulting in the Austrians and soon the Swiss fighting off the Soviets. Unfortunately, the survivors of the failed invasion joined up with those stranded in what came to be known as the Hungarian Wastes.

As an aside, there's also a bit of head-canon in that Austria tends to go into battle wearing old-fashioned uniforms and commencing battle "properly." This was done as a nod to both his aristocratic persona and the Nation's past as the Austrian Empire and one-half of Austria-Hungary (after all, he's not _only_ a musical-minded aristocrat). Also, the circumstances meant that I couldn't resist.

_Vorwärts zum Ruhm!_ - "Forward to Glory!" (German)  
_Wir haben jemand hier_ - "We have someone here." (German)  
_Mein Gott_ - "My God" (German)  
_Mon Dieu_ - "My God" (French)  
_Frantsuz_ - "Frenchman" (Russian)  
_Kérem_- "Please." (Hungarian)

*Like in the earlier version, one of the French words is a swear term. Though here's a hint: it's French for _Scheiße_.

**Also, my apologies for the belated typo tweaks! Sorry about that!


	4. CH - 4

**Author's Notes: **This is the part where the real action takes place, as well as the part of the "RE:" story with the most changes and alterations from the earlier version on DeviantArt. While the general plot is the same, there are differences in certain scenes and dialogue. The result here being it being surprisingly darker and perhaps even more horrifying, though I guess it's up for the reader to decide. This is also the part where the M rating really gets going and an appearance from a deceased and _very_ angry Nation in the AU.

At any rate, enjoy...or be frightened. Whichever comes first...

*UPDATE: Also, apologies for the belated typo fixes!

* * *

**____****Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows**

_**A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.**_

**_CH - 4_**

Undisclosed Location. 2012.

There seemed to be no end to the constant stream of bandits and mercenaries standing in Roderich Edelstein's way. With each shot fired and every thrust of his blade, the Nation found it harder to keep himself in check. If he were honest, the mounting anger wasn't so much aimed at those lowlifes, as much as he since considered one less fool to be for the greater good. Let alone the fact that he resented war even if he had long since seen countless battlefields. Rather, it was the fact that he was moving ever closer to the culprits behind Sopron's capture.

_And the sooner you schwein are gone from my sight, the sooner this charade ends!_ the aristocrat sneered inwardly as he raised his Luger pistol at the last few gunmen, only to see Vash come up and finish them himself. As much he found the Swiss blonde's alertness incredibly excessive, at least it finally gave him and the soldiers with them some momentary relief. _Now then…_

Austria's attention soon turned to his unexpected, if exhausted intruder. It still surprised him that someone like the author of _The Shadow of Tomorrow_ had wound up in the company of such ignoble men. But there was no time figuring out just why the writer went this far from the RTFA. _At least he is cooperating with us._

"How sure are you that this is the right way?" he heard Switzerland whisper in French, the Alpine's eyes filled with suspicion as he turned back to the foreigner, only to notice a growing blood stain at the side of the man's suit. "Hold it! Are you…"

"It just grazed me…I think," Jean Burnel wearily replied as he turned to the two Nations. "_Monsieurs_ Zwingli, Edelstein. Whether you trust me or not is of no significance. My so-called contacts…those _morceaux de merde_ have played me for an _embecile_! To help you save Sopron…at least I owe her that much." He seemed to wince for a second as he tried to keep standing. "I do have to wonder though…is she by any chance related to you?"

Austria sighed heavily, even as he gestured for a medic to treat the Frenchman's wounds. "Perhaps another time. But for now gentlemen, shall we keep ourselves _focused_ on the mission? _Danke schon_."

Truth told however, Roderich found it more difficult to keep appearances. Closing his eyes, the Nation instead tried to sense everything in his surroundings. It was a peculiar talent he shared with others of his kind, even if doing it outside his borders strained him ever since the Empire fell. But despite that, he was able to tell who among the Alpine Expeditionary Corps were covering them from behind and those his aide sent off to finish off the remaining bandits. To his relief, not a single soldier had died in their attack. Yet he could still fell the pain of wounded men being carried back to safety. Sense bows and gunfire in the distance as though he were close-by. Hearing screams coming from those either stubborn enough not to run away into the Wastes or too weak to even stand. _The more things change, they say. _Even after so many generations, he took little pride in the less romantic sides of battle.

Soon enough however, the aristocrat finally sensed the presence of a young girl. The trace was faint, almost as though she was struggling to call out. That was all he needed, his eyes opened up abruptly as though a new hope had sprung up. He could still save Julia. _It has to be her! You couldn't be far now. Just please hold on…_

Quickly raising their pace, his group found themselves marching into an open clearing. Ahead was a wooden shed covered in netting and tents, just as Jean described. Even though it seemed as though no one else in sight despite the light fog, the Nation remained cautious. _Could this be it?_

_It is, kedvesem. Ripe for the taking!_ Austria glanced around to find an unusually large bird perched close by, speaking in a tone that for reasons unknown only he could hear. Familiar green eyes stared back at him with the same fierce determination his former wife had in their old battles all those years ago, her voice as strong as ever. _Time to get our daughter back!_

"So long as it goes according to plan, _Meine Liebe_," he whispered, letting himself grin mischievously for a second before turning towards the soldiers. Clearing his throat, the aristocrat slid back into a more commanding tone. "You are to maintain a perimeter and keep watch for any suspicious activity. It is imperative that the kidnappers do _not_ escape. Now go. _Schell!_" The Austrian watched briefly as the men took to their positions like clockwork. He then quickly shifted his attention to Switzerland. "And _Schweiz_? I need you to keep _Herr _Burnel out of harm's way. He's done his role."

A questioning look entered the Alpine's face. "What are you saying, Roderich? You're seriously going through with that plan w-"

"Take command of the men while I…_we_ approach the shed," he cut him off. "They'll need all the help in planning our escape route. But this ends _now_."

A resigned, knowing frown seemed to line the Swiss' face, which quickly vanished as he raised his gun. "It's your call. This idea better work!"

"_Danke,_ Vash. I'll consider that as a yes." He let out a shrug. "Just so you understand, given the spirit of _Seleenwoche_ – this would be the most _appropriate_ option." The Nation then turned his head towards the tired and increasingly baffled writer now being lifted up by the medic. "_Et vous avez des tous mes remerciements, Monsieur. _I shall send Julia your regards."

Jean's exhausted yet relieved nod was all he needed to see as Austria took one last moment to compose himself. _Now or never. _Pistol and saber in hand, the aristocrat turned to walk towards the shed. A strong yet peculiar gust of wind seemed to go ahead of him, heading in the same direction. A barely restrained sneer finally crossed his face.

There was no turning back.

-0-

There was no denying the obvious. Surrounded. Trapped. No margin for error. And yet despite such problems, Col. Viktor Andrei believed that they've already won. _I've won,_ he thought with a smug grin as he watched Mark seal up a long metal container. That the organization he was working for would be most pleased also worked in his favor. _Perhaps I may go after Partium or even the Alpines next…_

Sure, most of the remaining guards could be heard holding off the Alpine Confederation's finest as the sounds of guns, bows and blades echoed inside the shed. _Though truth be told, It's not like we've lost much in this god-forsaken trash heap._ The armed professionals his backers sent made for good distractions. While the bandits he and Mark hired were worth less than the old suits both had on. Whether they were former Soviets, Serbian deserters or mere petty criminals, they could always be replaced. _So long as it's not me._

As for Jean Burnel, the aging Russian had a mind to have that pathetic writer's "accidental demise" spun on every obituary on Earth. Fixing a peaked cap left over from his old army uniform, he made his way towards an armored van that would take them to safety. Then something went off.

"Colonel," his American colleague called out in English from the front of the van as the vehicle seemed to break down. "The fucking engine's not working! Can you get your ass moving and drag that crate o-"

A gunshot cut Mark off mid-sentence as he fell down unceremoniously onto the ground. Forcing himself to ignore the shock, Col. Andrei turned towards the front of the shed. A young-looking, bespectacled officer stood there in some dusty museum-piece outfit, an old saber and pistol aimed directly at him. Even without the strange aura that seemed to radiate from the Alpine intruder, it didn't take much for the Russian to figure out his identity. Then again, with or without those convenient notes from his "employers," this wasn't the first time he met Roderich Edelstein in battle.

"Your collaborator will live, _Herr _Andrei. And so shall you if you lay down your arms," the aristocrat began in accented if formal English, forcing his voice into a cold, stoic calm that seemed operatic in this day and age. "This place – these Wastes may not be formally under Alpine jurisdiction. But if you let Julia go and surrender, you have my word that you shall receive a fair trail, your involvement in this whole affair…"

"Still bitter with Vienna, _da_? Or is it the deaths of your mindless drones?" The old man gave a cold smirk, answering back in Russian as he slowly made his way to the container, his free hand grasping for his prized Makarov pistol. _If only you could see what is in this thing._ "I know you understand me, _Avstriya_. Almost 30 years since we last met and you _still_ look the same! And no doubt you remember that ever so _glorious_ invasion of your land. Though come to think of it, the men I've lost to your hand then _and now _are of little consequence, as no doubt do yours…"

"That is _enough, _Colonel."

"But I work for neither Soviet Union or Siberia! _Nyet_, I work for a greater good for all humanity. The star-"

The Nation fired a warning shot before slowly stepping forward. "Don't take me for a fool, _Schwein_," he sneered. "I've face whole armies, seen countless people die and just as many rise up to the occasion…but _never_ presume that I belittle my own people. For even the least heroic and dignified among them have more of both than _you _could ever be: a second-rate officer and petty lowlife, your so-called dignity sold to the highest bidder…am I missing something?"

"Then your servants must be blind," he retorted, a smug if forced grin still on his face while carefully making his way to the container. "Americans, Soviets…Hah! Wasn't Doomsday brought about by Nations and their ideologies? So why not remake this burning planet free from abominations such as you?! All while spearheading my employers' will for the workers and _all_ humanity: true power. Of course, they can believe all they want. For the likes of me, there's much to be had in getting some profit off whatever it is _this _thing can give! Really comrade, this all reminds me a little of that one time in '84 involving a certain Magyar whore. Oh, the things my men d-"

Austria fired another round, only this one grazed his head far too close for comfort. "I swear for the life of me that the next shot shall be your last! So let this be my final warning: if you do so much as _touch_ Sopron one more time, you will experience horrors beyond your imagining. _Far_ worse than what I could do to you…" While the aristocrat's face remained stern, there was a just a hint of utter rage in his eyes that seemed almost impossible for any person to possess. "Now…let go of my _daughter_! _JETZT!_"

"Gladly…Have at it!" The Russian forced open the container, revealing a pale, almost corpse like body of a young girl, her skin and clothes filled with grime and puncture marks. It took up nearly all of his darts to finally keep the Survivor-Nation sedate. But it did the job, stunning the Nation just long enough for him to line up his pistol. A part of him hoped that the special rounds his employers sent to him would work. _Still, hope you enjoy the sight of your little brat._"And so you know, that Hungarian screamed like bitch. Something to think about on your way to Hell!"

He pulled the trigger, a growing bloodstain marking where he hit the Nation. Momentarily startled at the sight, he saw the aristocrat force himself forward. As the creature moved up to lunge at him, he fired again, the blade just missing his coat. Then again. And again, until finally, the thing crumpled down close to the crate, glasses shattered and blood drenching the body as if dtill trying and failing to crawl up to it. As the old man walked over to the limp figure, he couldn't resist the urge to shoot it once more just for good measure.

Yet even as the Russian reloaded the gun, there was a faint, unsettling chuckle coming from the soon-to-be corpse. "You've...brought this on...yourself, _Schwein_..." the dying Nation sneered, only to start chuckling maniacally. "_She _won't...be as merciful..."

One last bullet struck the now bloodied chest. And then there was silence. _Now _he had won.

"_Do svidaniya, Avstriya_," Andrei smirked assuredly. "A brave new world awaits!" _And I'm sure my backers won't mind a dead body to test on..._

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_You should have listened to him, te bolond._

A female voice seemed to echo in his head as a strong wind suddenly came out from nowhere, pushing the Russian off his feet and hurling him towards the side of the van. _derʹmo…the Hell just happened?!_ A part of him thought that he had heard it somewhere before, like an old ghost of a memory. Disoriented and groaning in pain, he tried standing up only to stumble down again. But as he looked up, the answer was staring right at him. _Nyet._

"Viktor Andrei, right?" A youthful woman in an old Hungarian uniform stood close to where he had just shot the Austrian, an odd flower snugly fitting into her hair. But there was also a bitter, icy look in her green eyes as she walked towards him with a spear in hand. "No need to answer. I _know_ what you've done to my Auztria! To Sopron…to _me_!"

_This…this has to be some sick dream!_ "Y-You shouldn't even BE alive!" he growled, though more out of shock than anything else. It all came back. He never really thought that much about his adventures in Hungary after the invasion failed all those years ago. Neither did he regret much of what he did. _If I did at all. But you…_ "The records…those bandits should have _killed _you!"

"You'd be _right_, seeing how you're no better than _them_," she sneered in a tone that sounded at once sensual, bitter and inhuman. "I haven't forgotten what you and your ilk have done. Killing…ravishing…_violating_ what remained of my people…except it all just wasn't enough to kill me right away..." Her clothes and flesh seemed to fall apart with each step she took. And yet the dead piercing look in her eyes remained even as all else about her rotted away. "…but that wasn't enough for _YOU, was it?! I remember the order you gave your men…and what you've let them DO TO ME!_"

Desperately, he tried shooting at the abomination, only for his precious bullets to slip right past her until finally running out of ammunition. Almost as though on cue, he watched in growing shock as Austria struggled to stand up in the distance and tried to lift up that damned girl from the crate. _The rounds didn't work...how couldn't they?! This can't be happening. Can't be happening._"Im...Impossible! J-Just DIE ALREADY! THIS IS NOT O-"

Hungary's decayed form shrieked as she pierced the spear right at his firing arm. The Russian could barely breathe, let alone scream as the dead Nation's now darkened eyes stared directly into his. _"Nem, you won't be a hero. You and your pathetic group will NOT bring the__ same madness to the world. Not to Roderich, Julia, Janos or ANYONE ELSE!"_ She drove the blade just a little deeper. _"If you think of begging for forgiveness, I'm afraid it's a little too late for that. But then again, killing you right away wouldn't be satisfying, now would it? The souls you've suffered would like nothing less than what I...nem, We have in mind…_"

"Y-You…bitch!" He struggled to speak, for the first time in decades dreading for life. If there was any regret, he frantically tried to ignore it. After all, he managed to elude the Alpines all these years. There may still be a chance of getting out of this. _Has to be!_"You already have your damn kid…let me go…"

_"Gladly…"_ The image laughed in an otherworldly sound as it turned into something he couldn't describe. In a blink of an eye, Andrei thought he saw vast plains, people from all walks and ages, a history of an entire Nation compressed into one glimmer before vanishing back into the figure before him. He found it hard to see anything else. For some reason, he wanted to laugh, cry, just do _something._ But try as he might, the man could do neither. _Nyet..._

"…what…are you?"

A blinding flash came as her voice turned faint. Almost _human_. Yet somehow, at that point he knew what was to come. He was afraid.

"_Let me show you what death is._"

And there was silence.

* * *

As for some reference:

Hungary in _1983: Doomsday _was largely reduced to ruins due to nuclear attacks and the Soviets soldiers-turned-warbands ravaging what remained. Outside of Sopron and Debrecen/Partium, the "Hungarian Wastes" are plagued by warlords and bandits either descended from those former soldiers or Serbian defectors trying their luck in the wasteland.

The Austrian Invasion was what happened during Doomsday just as Vienna was destroyed, with Soviet forces crossing the border into the country and trying to take it over...only for the Austrians and Swiss to fight them back, carving a bloody path of revenge. Unfortunately, a good deal of the survivors ended up ravaging and violating what remained of Hungary...

The RTFA is short for the "Republic of the French Southern Territories," a French Survivor-Nation based around Tahiti and the Pacific Ocean that has plans of one day uniting all the other French-speaking survivors into a reunified France.

As an aside, there a bit of headcanon here in that Austria tends to go into battle wearing old-fashioned uniforms and commencing battle "properly" as a nod to both his aristocratic persona and the Nation's past as the Austrian Empire and one-half of Austria-Hungary. There's also a nod to my older RDNA-verse AU in the motives behind the people backing the antagonists...who may or may not be an alternate version of the RDNA-verse's "Reds/Collectivists."

_Danke schon_ - "Thank you" (German; Formal)  
_Schell!_- "Quickly/Immediately/Now!" (German)  
_Schwein_ - "Pig/Bastard" (German)  
_Meine Liebe_ - "My Love" (German)  
_Jetzt_ - "Now" (German)  
_Et vous avez des tous mes remerciements_ - "And you have my thanks/gratitude" (French)  
_Avstriya_ - "Austria" (Russian)  
_Do svidaniya_ - "Farewell/Goodbye." (Russian)  
_Kedvesem_ - "Darling" (Hungarian)  
_Te bolond_- "You fool" (Hungarian)

*A few of the Russian and French words are swears, though. So take a guess what they are.


	5. CH - 5 END

**____****Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows**

_**A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.**_

**_CH - 5_**

Somewhere in the Sopron Frontier. 2012

It had been a particularly long and tiring journey. And as Jean Burnel stepped out into the peculiarly cold air with a battered luggage in hand, he still wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. _Even the landscape seems oddly relieved, _he thought, only to wince slightly from the bandaged wounds hidden beneath his shirt. Still, while the writer had healed enough for him to be let out, it was a clear reminder that his "research trip" was definitely far from uneventful.

Finding out that he had been out for a few days before waking up in an Alpine field hospital was surprising enough. But that paled in comparison to the notions crossing his mind. That he had been used by his so-called benefactors for some twisted scheme. That he not only met the elusive Nations first hand but was in the middle of a frantic battle alongside them. _Mon Dieu. And to think I traveled half the world for that._

It all came back. As much as his mind kept trying to make sense of the whole thing, there was really no other explanation that _didn't_ sound delusional. Which only served to make him regret taking that ticket. _And my stupid role in this mess. But at least I tried to make up for it._

"Now then," the author thought aloud as he dragged his bag. "How to get out of here?"

Just then, he noticed a dark-tinted saloon car approaching the empty lot. It seemed to be an old, slightly faded BMW that still had more than a strong hint of Old World elegance left to it. For a moment, he thought he noticed a bird close by before vanishing. But then he suddenly felt a tinge of fear as it came to a stop. Were his former "benefactors" out to get him after all? He took a sigh of relief however upon seeing a young officer in Alpine dress uniform stepping out from the driver's seat, freshly wound bandages on the man's arm.

"_Guten tag, Herr Burnel_," the young soldier greeted formally, smiling as he slid into accented French and gestured towards the car. If the writer remembered correctly, he was the aide of a certain Roderich Edelstein. "_Bitte_, let me handle your belongings, _Monsieur_. My superiors would like to have a word with you."

"_…Merci._" Startled for a moment, Jean gave a quick nod as he let the man take his luggage. _Not like there's much of a choice._ Stepping into the dimmed vehicle, his heart started racing. If the very embodiment of Austria wanted to see him, what did that Nation have in mind? Would the Alpine Nation have some deal arranged for him to stay silent? _Perhaps even at gunpoint? Merde, how could I…_

"You needn't worry about your safety here," a familiar if tired-sounding voice answered in fluent French from right beside him. His surroundings were dark enough that Jean could just make out the figure, though it didn't take much for him to put two and two together. "My apologies for being rather straightforward, _Monsieur _Burnel. But I can assure you that your concerns and other matters are far more than noted."

The writer tried to breath a little more easily, failing miserably as he tried keeping a straight face. "H-How so _Austriche_?" He chuckled nervously. "_Je…Je suis désolé_…it gets a little confusing on which names to use, _Monsieur _Edelstein. But – what do you mean?"

He could faintly see an assuring if knowing nod from Austria. "If you're curious, Sopron is safe and sound," the Nation began, his voice almost wistful for a second. "As for those kidnappers, don't fret. Rest assured that neither of those fools shall harm you nor _anyone _else. As long as the peoples of the Alpine Confederation…" The aristocrat started choking again, as though he was short of breath, his figure visibly wincing through the darkness.

This only left Jean only more baffled. "_Vous allez bien?_"

"…_Pardon_," Austria finally sighed as he cleared his throat. "But I must admit that it has been growing more difficult recovering from my…_injuries _as of late."

"What happened in there?" the writer dared to ask, partly out of concern. Though if he were honest, it was also out of some perverse curiosity. _Just stay focused. How could…_

"_Roderich's just fine,_" a female voice suddenly replied for the aristocrat in an almost sing-song if peculiarly _off_ tone. For some reason, Jean could understand her. "_If you really like to know, it's not the first time he's been shot several times in the chest. Call it a trade-off for being a Nation…_"

Startled, the writer turned his head towards a young-looking lady sitting across from him. It also surprised him how he could somehow see her with much more clarity. _How could I have missed that?!_ She was in a white, royal uniform that seemed straight out of an old story book, more fitting for a prince than a princess. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, although a flower still sat snugly on the side. But what surprised him was how much the smiling woman resembled Julia so much. _Unless…Mon Dieu!_ "Um…_Bonjour, Madame_…"

She let out a warm, playful chuckle as she offered her hand. "There's no need for that, Mr. Burnel. I'm Elizaveta Hedervary by the way. Although I don't mind if you call me Hungary…and please relax." Her voice took on a more comforting tone even as she smirked. "I don't bite."

"Charmed, _Madame…_" Jean was at a loss for words. As far as he knew, there was little left in the Hungarian Wastes for that country to survive. _Shouldn't she be…Non, just keep focused!_ He turned once more to Austria, forcing his mind to stay calm. "What of _them_, _Monsieur_?"

The aristocrat sighed, sounding at once triumphant yet bitter. " While _Monsieur_ Zwingli was trying to get you out of harm's way, my men were able to bring those interlopers to justice, as well as recover a surprising amount of evidence relating to their scheme. We were also able to capture one of the ringleaders. There's no doubt that greying _Amerikaner _will help us put the pieces together on whoever is really behind all this. Of course, it is all classified and locked away. As for Col. Andrei, that excuse of a _Russische _has been…"

"_Taken care of_," Elizaveta finished for him. For a brief moment, her voice turned at once otherworldly and unnervingly fierce before sliding back as though nothing happened. Whether her face seemed to change must have been in Jean's imagination. "This world has already seen too much hatred. Too much _madness_. But those people won't be harming anyone here on my watch! Now as for _you_…" She smiled once more, her face looking as if it was glowing. "I was hoping you could come to our daughter's party. She would really appreciate it."

"…_Pardonnez-moi_?"

"How forgetful of me." The Austrian faulted, and it soon became apparent to the Frenchman that he was wearing what looked like a dark-colored dress over an old suit. "Julia has this _very_ peculiar celebration in mind for _Seleenwoche_, though you might find it more similar to Halloween, I think." The Nation cleared his throat, though for a second he seemed to be trying more obviously to hide the blushes marking his face. "Frankly, the costume is a bit embarrassing. But it is a welcome change, _ja_?"

"_Merci, Monsieur,_" the writer replied meekly. "But…"

"Of course, nothing will stop you from declining the offer. If you so choose, I can make arrangements for a train to Linz for your flight back, under the condition that what happened here remain private. You have _our_ word that your involvement will be kept secret. However, if you wish to continue your research…" His eyes seemed to warm up slightly from behind those glasses. "Then you're welcome to join us. Perhaps even spend a few nights. It's the least I, or rather _we _could do. Just – kindly pretend you haven't seen this outfit."

Jean was speechless. This was the last thing he expected to hear from the aristocrat, let alone his possibly deceased partner. _To actually have something to write on. And from the Nations themselves to boot!_ Then again, neither did he imagine himself actually seeing both Sopron's mother _and_ father at once. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, he felt a surge of excitement. _Maybe this trip wasn't such a waste after all. _He grinned.

"_Oui, _I think a few more days wouldn't hurt. Just hope that I don't intrude unnecessarily."

"I'll look forward to it, Jean. And just so you know," Elizaveta added with a wink. "France is a fan of your works. Though he'd like it if you could have made England the Shadow of Tomorrow instead. Francis and Arthur always did have this thing involving their…well, you could always put _that _in the sequel, right?"

"I'll…keep that in mind, _Madame_."

-0-

"Uncle Vash! Aunt Lilli! It's nice that you could come over!" Julia smiled, greeting the Alpine Nation and her brother, both of whom were wearing William Tell costumes. "It's still a little early, though. Not everyone's here yet."

"It's fine," the Swiss sighed, though with a less pronounced frown than usual. "Punctuality is important for any Alpine. Besides, it's good to know that you're doing well. After what happened, I mean."

"_Köszönöm, _but really, I'm fine!"

A gentle if concerned smile crossed Liechtenstein's face as she moved forward. "Are you sure you like to go through with this, Julia? We could always postpone it until…"

"It's really no problem at all, Aunt Lilli. It's…" She bit back another surge of pain. "It's nothing I can handle."

The Survivor-Nation still winced even as she grinned. What those terrible men had in mind for her _should_ have been horrible. And yet despite that, the Survivor-Nation held firm. After all, as the embodiment of Sopron, she's _supposed_ to be as strong and resilient as her people. _That Mama and Papa were there too,_ she mused wistfully, only to realize just what she had just called Austria. She smiled. _Guess I've always known…_

The young girl snapped out of her thoughts however when she noticed the little child sleeping snugly on Liechtenstein's arms. Through the bundles of cloth, Julia could see hints of the baby's face and blond hair, how it looked so much like the siblings. He even had a hint of Switzerland's scowl in his otherwise cute, warm face. Somehow, she already knew who he was in more ways than one.

"So is that…"

The Alpine Nation warmly nodded. "Our young Hans. One day, he's going to make _everyone_ in the Alpine Confederation proud. I'm sure we'll be there to see it, though I do hope Roderich wouldn't mind. Isn't that right, little one?" The child seemed to move his head towards her for a second. "_Bitte,_ let me just set him down in the bedroom first. _Bruder?_"

_So that's the future, right?_ Julia smiled quietly at the sight. _I wonder if I was like that once, too._ But as she watched the two siblings make their way upstairs, her mind went back to the party. The tables and decorations were set. Her outfit was ready. And while she was sure Prussia would be coming, there was a chance that even Partium would show up, as much as she found Janos a tad uncomfortable being around. _Still, all that's missing now are…_

As though on cue, she sensed a car coming to a stop at the front of the house. Slowly taking her position just behind the door, the Survivor-Nation could already hear her parents and their new guests heading her way. Remembering what Austria taught her, she took a moment to calm herself from the growing excitement.

Whether it was called _Seleenwoche_, _Mindenszentek napja_ or even what those Americans called Halloween, she knew there was something different about her little party. That after so much hardship, maybe it wouldn't hurt to be more festive. _Even if it's something small like this._ She owed it to her people, after all. Despite herself, she chuckled. _This might actually work!_

There was a knock on the door. As Sopron was about to open it, she knew that it was only just the start of another new day. And whatever would happen, she had no regrets. The festivities had only just begun.

"Welcome home!"

"We're glad to be here, dear. _All of us._"

_ENDE_

* * *

As for some reference:

The BMW mentioned is actually a modified and jury-rigged BMW- 501 which was one of the first German-made "saloon cars"/sedans made after World War II.

As an aside, there are also references to the 2011 Halloween Event from _Axis Powers Hetalia_, aka _Hetaween 2011_. In fact, if you notice closely, Austria and Hungary's costumes are actually the same ones from the Hetalia event, along with those of Switzerland and Liechtenstein. And yes, the little child is the Alpine Confederation. Aka Switzerland and Liechtenstein's child. Just a little bit of trivia. Also, let also say that Austria's not quite as strong as he used to be by this point...

_Mon Dieu_ - "My God" (French)  
_Je suis desole!_- "I'm sorry." (French)  
_Austriche_ - Austria (French)  
_Vous allez bien?_ - "Are you alright?" (French)  
_Pardon_ - "Pardon/Excuse me" (French)  
_Pardonnez-moi?_ - "Say what?" (French)  
_Amerikaner_ - American (German)  
_Russische_ - Russian (German)  
_Bitte_ - "Please/I insist" (German)  
_Bruder_ - "Brother" (German)  
_Köszönöm_ - "Thank you" (Hungarian)

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hoped you were able to enjoy this! Also, hope you don't mind one last tweak!


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